Between the Spheres
by Symmetrymaster
Summary: From one world to another one thing certainly never changes.
1. Chapter 1

Thanned Island

1267

It was directly after the blast. Benavent's portal had just vanished with a thunderclap. The portal...and the roof of Tor Lara.  
For Vilgefortz of Roggeveen this was a complete disaster. He had failed to acquire the child with the Elder blood, and half his face had most likely been seared off. Vilgefortz hadn't really bothered to check a mirror. He was to busy lying sprawled across the floor, feeling ever so luck to be alive if nothing else.  
A strange groaning snapped him back to reality. Vilgefortz sat up to see someone else lying beside him.  
It was a human looking figure, though not an inch of skin seemed to be visible on it. The figure itself slowly began to sit up. It coughed before placing a hand on it's helmet. It seemed to sense the presence of someone else as well. It wordlessly turned it's glowing eye to face Vilgefortz.

Visor, not eye. Vilgefortz would later note. One of the lenses on the visors seemed to glow green. The other did not, though that was likely due to damage.

Before the strangely dressed man could speak he was cut off by a sudden blow to the head.

* * *

The figure woke up again in a dark, damp smelling room. He was restrained in a wooden chair with all his armor still attached.  
He hand't been able to read it's mind. Further examination on his part showed the the armored man before him was part machine. It's brain as well as many other organs were mostly made up of synthetic materials. Vilgefortz had deduced that the armored man had not been born this way. Either he or someone else had heavily altered his body.  
Vilgefortz would have liked to have gotten quick answers from his subject, but the man in question had ceased talking several hours after arriving. Nothing had prompted him to speak. It had been four days now, and no amount of pulled nails or sleep deprivation had convinced him to speak out coherently.  
Vilgefortz would have been fine exploring the strange anatomy of the subject on any other day, but time was up.  
Redanian intelligence would find this place soon enough, and he had bigger fish to fry.

Vilgefortz gave the subject another look before speaking. "When you do feel like speaking to me then I assure you that I can and will treat you to a bath...maybe even a decent dinner."

As usual there was no reply.

"Fine then. I shall see you in a several weeks...or years. It depends on the circumstances I suppose."

Vilgefortz uttered a lengthy spell, before bringing his hands down. The last thing the subject felt was the sensation of a thousand tons crashing down on his head.  
Vilgefortz picked up the small jade figurine lying in the chair. He slipped it into a pocket before opening a portal and leaving the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**1268 **

**Outside Stygga Castle **

The job had been done. Stygga Castle no longer existed. Indeed the explosion had been a bit larger then Keira, Triss and Sabrina had intended, but that was not the point. Not a trace of information was left for anyone to use. Everything had either been taken or annihilated. All recovered from Vilgefortz's fortress had been carefully cataloged and sent back to the lodge. Everything save one little bobble.

Before the Nilfguardian soldiers occupying the fortress had left, they had (of course) stripped the castle bare of perceived valuables. One particular man had acquired an intricately carved jade figurine. Several weeks later while feeling like he'd die without a drop of drink the soldier traded his souvenir for a half empty wine skin. The soldier who had made the trade then had the figurine nicked from him by a peasant who was assisting the army break camp. The peasant sold the statue to a traveling merchant, who in turn sold it another traveling merchant. The second merchant traveled a great deal before ending up the marshy lands of Velen. He had trouble selling the figurine (mainly due to the fact that he charged fifty crowns for it). One day he traveled to the village of Miscopse. He haggled with several members of the village before selling many of his wares. One of them happened to be the overpriced figurine.

**1272**

**Temeria**

Miscopse was a small, out of the way town. No witch hunters, no Nilfguardians and no notice. Not many people considered the small settlement to be worth their time or attention. That was just how Keira Metz wanted it.

Over the past few weeks Keira had acted as the local "witch or wise woman" for the local yokels. No one could suspect that she was once a member of the Lodge of Sorceresses (nor would they likely know just what that was). Everything was fine for the moment.

_If you could ignore the lice, rain, pesky villagers and the ever present smell of shit that is._

The situation was driving Keira mad. The thought of being impaled or burned to death by Radovid was bad...but living without the comforts usually afforded to her was a much worse issue. One of the few things that she appreciated was that she never had to risk giving herself away by shopping in the village. The villagers dropped of baskets of bread or dried fruit by her doorway. After all being uncomfortable was one thing..._but starving was admittedly worse. _  
There had been lees in the way to eat lately. Food was becoming quite scarce due to the war. The villagers had taken to leaving little bobbles and charms. Most of them had been worthless trash as far as Keira was concerned.

Today it seemed to be no different. _Just more junk_. That is, until she noticed the compacted jade figurine.


	3. Chapter 3

The statue had naturally been the first thing that caught Keira's eye. She scooped it up before looking it over more thoroughly. It seemed to be a man. A man draped in a long coat with a breastplate underneath it. Keira toyed around with the frozen figure as she thought about what to do.

_Naturally it would be quite interesting to see what poor sod had been packed like this. Though one would have to wonder just **why **he ended up that way in the first place. There was also the fact that unpacking someone involved a complex set of spells that took a rather large amount of concentration._ _If one mistake was made, then the man in question would end up dead...or worse. The largest issue though was also the simplest one. If the whole process went smoothly and the man in question was indeed released from his prison, then there would still be a complete stranger prancing about, confused as hell making a complete mess of things. It would certainly make hiding away that much harder. _Keira would have given this matter more thought, but right before she could start delving into more complex thought another issue showed up.

Geralt of Rivia had just arrived.

* * *

It had been several years since she had encountered the white haired witcher. Of course that didn't mean that he'd become any less predictable.

_A quick trip through a portal in the basement, then a hop in the bath. The moment Geralt managed to find his way in, he saw exactly what he needed to see._

Keira gave him a momentary gaze at her assets before dressing herself in a nice looking illusion. She had had a little issue on Fyke Isle that needed solving, stroking the witcher's...ego was the first step. Of course the day had only just begun. Before long Keira learned that the Elven sage who had questioned her before was in fact Cirilla's ward. Evidently the child of surprise had returned from places unknown.  
Geralt needed to find Ciri and the sage had promised to hand over an illusion dispelling lamp before he left. It wasn't long before an agreement of sorts had been reached. A trip had been made to where the sage was last seen, and (as usual when it came to Geralt) problems occurred immediately.  
Keira and Geralt encountered none other than the Red Riders of the Wild Hunt. It was a challenge...but nothing that a sorceress and a witcher couldn't handle.

* * *

At the end of the day everything had ended in a (for the most part) satisfactory manor. The lantern had been acquired and Geralt had promised to return. The plan to infiltrate Fyke Isle seemed a little more likely. True the Wild Hunt's intervention was a worrying matter, but everything around Geralt fit that description. And as far as Keira noted, the world still hadn't ended.  
Now once again Keira found herself sitting alone in the shack the villagers had _so graciously _allocated her.  
_No one to chat with over the megascope, no intelligent conversation for miles around, no...  
_Keira looked over and noticed the jade figurine. _That could work._

* * *

The pentagram on the floor had to be drawn out precisely. Everything had to line up to the nearest millimeter. The candles had been lit, and the figurine sat at the center. Keira began uttering the complex spells needed to unlock the figurine. Everything had to be stated precisely. Nothing could be mispronounced. As the spells continued a strange heat began to emanate from the figurine. A bead of sweat trickled down Keira's forehead as she began to reach the end. Just one mistake and whoever this was would be turned to red paste.  
_Then again, that could happen even if this goes correctly.  
_In a flash it was over. The heat subsided and Keira relaxed. The figurine was gone, replaced by a shivering man laying sprawled across the pentagram.  
Keira looked over at her new ward. He began to uncurl slowly, not making a sound as he did. He had a long brown coat draped over what looked to be a breastplate. The coat was dotted with holes and the armor seemed to have a set of claw marks raked across it. His legs had a strange kind of fabric covering them. It seemed to be something akin to canvas.  
Gazing up Keira decided to look at the stranger's face. The man on the floor still hadn't spoken, instead he merely shivered as Keira examined him.  
The face was nothing special. Brown hair had fallen down over his temples. His nose seemed to be broken, while his eyes sat in a pronounced set of sockets. The eyes had deep bruises around them as well. Almost as if whoever this was had been awake for days at a time. Beside all of that a dry and dusty looking beard seeped down from his face. All together he seemed to be a dried up looking vagrant with strange looking clothes.  
Keira winkled her nose as his scent wafted into her nostrils. It seemed to be a mix of sweat,ammonia and..._urine._

Keira recoiled as she watched a dark stain emanate from the unconscious stranger's crotch.

* * *

Several minutes later the stranger lay on top of a table. His clothes and armor had been removed. Keira washed her hands in a basin, all the while swearing under her breath. This is not how she envisioned the matter going. Keira could not help but sigh as she finished up. If she had half a mind she would dump the poor fool outside...still professional curiosity had to be sated, and the odd man had certainly stoked it.  
After removing his clothes Keira had noted something rather strange. Despite obvious signs of malnutrition the man before her possessed a raised set of muscles. His midsection in particular seemed..._a tad unrealistic. _After sung a quick diagnostic spell to probe the area Keira's suspicions were confirmed.

_The muscles weren't natural._

Some kind of artificial tissue had been placed beneath his skin. Further checks confirmed that the man's body held more muscle than it should have.  
It was at this moment that Keira stopped looking at him like a human, and more like specimen. She made a small incision into his left bicep before removing a tiny spec on flesh from inside of it. As the man began to writhe and mumble Keira quickly cast another spell to calm him down. Instead of incapacitating him it seemed to have the opposite affect. The man seemed to just struggle more fiercely. It wasn't until he was given a strong injection of anesthetic that he finally went limp.  
Keira didn't bother examining the tissue sample after taking it out. She was curious about how the subject resisted a spell which should have rightly left him dead to the world. Keira took the time to utter a more complex spell, after that she once again scrutinized the body on the table.  
What she saw marked the first time (in her professional career anyway) that she was at a loss for words.

_It's...a machine._

The inside of the stranger's body was packed to the brim with things that shouldn't rightly have been there. His spine was made completely from some metallic alloy that Keira had never seen before. His lungs seemed to be two times larger than an average set, and made out of some strange material that Keira (once again) had no real knowledge of. His heart...wasn't there. Instead some oval shaped device seemed to pump blood in it's place.  
Some of the subject's bones were still made of the usual calcium, but his skull seemed to be made of the same alloy constituting the back. The brain inside of it, _if one could still call it that_ was the most unique part of him. Both the stem, and lower parts of the organ were indeed normal. However the rest of the organ had been entirely replaced by more metal or synthetic parts.

_It seemed as though someone had simply opened his head up and added new...implants to his brain intermittently. _

Some unconscious alarm suddenly sounded in Keira's mind. She stopped the diagnostic and looked directly over at the man's left forearm. Across in was one clear and clean tan line where something had adorned the arm constantly. It ran six inches up from his wrist, then stopped.

* * *

For an hour afterwards Keira hadn't touched the subject nor had she used her Megascope. She knew exactly who she had now. She remembered what she and Triss had carted out of Stygga castle. Vilgefortz's noted had described what he found. The lodge had been very interested in the technology the rouge mage had been experimenting on. Especially the wrist mounted device that could compact matter.  
Now suddenly the owner of all those gadgets was lying next to her..._alive_.

_Philippa Eilhart had taken all the recovered devices with her before she had vanished. _

Keira glanced away from whoever the man on table was and back to the megascope. She pondered deeply if trying to contact Pillipa, or anyone else was worth the risk. She received her answer quicker than she thought.  
The sound of parchment gently blown aside by a breeze was all that she heard. Keira glanced around just in time to see the subject standing behind her.  
A set of emerald green eyes met her's for the briefest of seconds.

After that she felt a light knock on the head, before the world went dark.


	4. Capter 4

A naked man sprinted through the woods. If he had a heart it would have been pounding by now. His head seemed to pound though, and his synthetic muscles burned despite themselves. His vision (for what it was worth) seemed to be nonexistent as well. It might have been due to the pitch black out, or it could have been that he could barely keep his eyes open. All the same he kept running. His feet touched grass, trampled mud and marsh water before he slowed down. He tripped mid stride and landed flat on his face. After that there was nothing. Just silence.

* * *

The whistling disturbed his moment of nothingness. Sharp piercing noise seemed like it was playing from right inside his head. It was worse than a nail on glass. The noise softened after a moment, then morphed into a tune. The sound of steps followed afterwards. A pair of feet sauntered up to him...then nothing again.

* * *

The man jolted awake. He took a few panicked breaths as he tried to get his bearings.

He reached around for several seconds before he felt a bare arm next to him. He seemed to relax at that.

"Cass...is that you?"

"There there now." an unfamiliar voice replied. "Just relax, you've been passed out for the better part of a day now."

"Argh...Christ." he mumbled. "I get the feeling you just saved my ass."

"Think nothing of it. Besides t'wasnt me who brought you here."

"Doesn't matter." replied the man. "I'll pay you back as soon as I'm up."

"Well, I'd take it easy if I were you. You've been in a well and deep sleep." said the voice.

"Yeah...I had the strangest dreams. I got kidnapped by a wizard...then tortured in a tower."

There was a light giggle before the voice commented on that.

"Well you're safe and sound now, back in good old Oreton."

The nude man finally opened his eyes at that. He looked over to see an older looking woman sitting beside him. She responded to his shocked stare with a coy grin. His eyes quickly darted around the room. He seemed to be in some kind of shack. The room smelled like wet wood..._and rotten bread. _

"I should probably be getting up." hurriedly mumbled the man. He slid off of the saggy wool mattress before searching around for his clothes. The woman didn't need to think hard about what he was looking for.

"When your friend brought you here y'had no clothes to speak of."

The man just rubbed his eyes at the news. He could only think of one word for the situation. "Perfect...just perfect."

"What's you name sir." inquired the woman.

The man in turn slowly looked over at her. "Timothy." he replied.

"Just Timothy?"

Timothy gave her an odd look before replying. "Kot. Timothy Kot."

"Well then Timothy Kot, your friend left a sack of apples behind and asked me to keep an eye on you until you woke up."

Timothy Kot took his time before replying. He looked around again, before glancing down at his left wrist. There wasn't anything there besides a tan line. He almost grimaced at the sight of it. He looked up again and posed another question.

"I don't remember coming here. Who's the friend you're talking about?"

This time the woman gave him her own odd look.

"He didn't leave a name...funny, I never thought to ask."

She hesitated a second, almost as if she was mulling something over before speaking again. "He told me to let you'know that he'd be waiting for you once you awoke."

Timothy raised an eyebrow at the statement but didn't interrupt.

"He said that you were'to meet him at t'inn at the crossroads...as soon as you'could."

Timothy looked her, then at his wrist again. Not much registered on his face, but it didn't take a genius to tell that he was quietly trying not to start shouting his head off.

"My name's Lucy...if you were ponder'n it...and I have some clothes for ye sir."

Tim snapped out of the funk he was in and greeted that comment with a smile. He sensed that she had been instructed to offer him a bed and something to wear, but all the same the gesture was appreciated.

"Thank you Lucy."

* * *

It took several minutes of fiddling around before he figured out how to properly put on the moth-eaten clothes he'd been given. The whole getup seemed more than a little medieval to Tim. A set of scratchy wool pants (lacking underwear) along with a undershirt of the same material. A pair of clogs which happened to be a few sizes too small rested beside Tim as well. He quickly decided that he wouldn't have worn them even if they had fit.  
By the time he felt that he was finished Timothy began to feel lightheaded. There was something off about the air. _It was almost as if there was just to much of it. _It was at this time that Timothy realized that he hadn't stepped outside since he arrived here. In fact he hadn't had a chance to observe the world since his arrival. He had been locked in a cell for several days, then had somehow woken up on some ramshackle operating table being sliced open by some witch. He recalled knocking her lights out before scrambling out her window, not bothering to see weather or not he had killed her. There had been some running after that, but he hadn't seen anything. Just darkness and muted shapes. After that there had been a fall..._then whistling. _Someone had come and rescued him. The "friend" that Lucy had spoken of.  
_And now there is here...another dark room. This time though...the door is right beside me.  
_Timothy made his way over _slowly_. Waiting to see if something would happen. Waiting to be knocked out and dragged away again. He came to the door, and hesitantly began to push it open.

* * *

Many years ago, in a land distant in every definition of the word a package courier made a journey much like this. He had almost died. Almost returned to the dirt, but he instead survived and made his way back into the sunlight. He could never forget a deep sense of relief, of happiness even _thankfulness _to a god that he certainly didn't bother believing in. He tasted life again just after he had lost it. He never expected to feel anything similar to that again. No matter what he suffered or survived, there was nothing that would ever be the same.

He was right.

* * *

The moment he took his first breath, he was already overwhelmed. He could smell it, and taste it. There was life in the air.

_Plants, water, food, rot, people, animals. _The smells filled his nose, mouth and lungs.

It wasn't just the smells. It was the air as well. It was thicker and almost richer than anything he'd ever felt before. The modified lungs in Timothy's chest had been created specifically to suck more oxygen from his world's depleted atmosphere. They (and by extension he) were suddenly overwhelmed by what they were inhaling.  
All the modifications, all the implants and even some of the mutations Timothy had acquired (forcibly or not) had optimized his ability to survive on a planet with most of it's ecosystem destroyed. Timothy's body had never experienced anything such as this. In the depths of his mind it was terrifying and confusing. Yet one part of him, perhaps the same part that appreciated the sun over Goodsprings now beamed. And such as it was the first time, for just a few seconds, Courier 6 couldn't utter a single word.

* * *

Lucy watched her guest stare off into the trees. He hadn't moved for a solid minute since he stepped outside. His eyes on the other hand seemed to dance over anything and everything they could rotate towards. Lucy (who had a self proclaimed _good instinct for people_) got the impression that this man hadn't been outside in quite a while. She was happy for him, and happier that she now had a few weeks worth of food from his odd friend. The sound of squeaking wheels brought her back to reality. She looked over to see Franz (the young man who'd gone to work over at Crow's Perch) riding his way into town. Lucy knew that she'd have to hide her apples quickly. The baron sent his men to take tithes from any and all settlements in Velen so he could feed his garrison. Franz had been sent to lead the wagon to Oreton since he was from there, and (hopefully) would evoke the most peaceful response from the locals.  
One of the baron's men, a middle aged man named Cedric was sitting beside Franz on the wagon. Several others from the Barron's garrison followed along with the cart, some riding while others walked.  
There were about eleven men in all heading their way. _In other words, t__en cutthroats with badges. _Lucy hoped that they would just take what they saw and not go routing around through their homes again. The last time that had happened three older men had died, and some young girl named Olena had been hauled off with the food.  
Lucy looked over at Timothy and realized that he hadn't moved. She looked back to Cedric and the soldiers and knew she had to move her visitor fast. Many young (or at least healthy men) had been conscripted to defend or maintain the Barron's fortress. Timothy certainly seemed healthy, and none to old. The last thing she needed was him getting hauled off before he made it to the inn. She didn't quite know why, but she was sure that she didn't want to keep the stranger who'd brought him waiting.  
Lucy quickly headed towards Timothy, she had to shove him inside before it was to late.  
Lucy winced at the sound of Franz calling out. Her moment of panic subsided when she realized that he was calling for the village headman. She quickly made it up to Timothy and began to shake him out of his stupor.

"Get inside sir!" she hissed. "Quickly before they see ye!"

Timothy immediately stared down at Lucy, before looking over towards the band of armed men heading towards the village. He wasn't sure he what exactly he was seeing. Large men in gambesons were marching his way. None of them had any guns. Most just had halberds, or swords. Beside them was something equally as odd. A pair of oxen. Timothy had been under the impression that they had all died out centuries ago. Most back animals had been replaced by brahmin. _Only a few real cows are left, but only filthy rich Brahim Barrons had them...  
_Timothy's mind had begun to wander, despite the calls to hide by Lucy. The one thing that halted his line of thought was a small observation he made.

_Those men with weapons are starting to spread out..._

* * *

A shrill scream suddenly caught both Tim and Lucy's attention. Both looked over to see that one of the Baron's men had just plunged the tip of their halberd into the headman's stomach. The headman in turn had done his part by screaming hoarsely, before falling backwards as the halberd was jerked out of him.  
In a flash the Barron's men roared and charged forward, swinging their weapons wildly. Even Cedric himself drew a sword and hopped off of the wagon.  
In a flash many of the villagers fled for their lives. They'd just seen their headman murdered, and the howling men charging armed at them were as horrifying as they could be. Lucy suddenly turned and ran as well. She didn't bother trying to grab Timothy. _She just had to run. Run far and fast without thinking, as instinct dictated._  
Timothy on the other hand didn't move a muscle. He just watched a particularly young looking man charge at him with a sword drawn.  
The young man in turn b-lined straight for the stationary fool in front of him. Three steps away from Timothy he raised his sword then gave a triumphant howl as he brought it down.  
The young man sensed there was a problem the moment his feet left the ground. Timothy had ducked down and used the young man's momentum to flip him over his shoulder. As the lad landed hard on his back Timothy spun around, kicked him much harder in the side of the head before prying the sword from a twitching hand.  
An older man swinging a halberd turned around to see the debacle. In a flash he sprinted to his friend's defense. He hacked down at Timothy, hoping to cleave the stranger's head open. Instead Timothy merely sidestepped the sloppy swing, before spinning around. Tim took three careful steps back and watched as his attacker jerked around to look at him. Timothy gave him an ugly grin, and the man (predictably) went wild. He rushed forward again (without raising the halberd) and yelled as he did so. This time Timothy didn't leap around. Instead he slapped the halberd away with the side of his new sword, before stabbing forwards.  
A strange noise suddenly cut the air. The only person that heard it was the man who'd just dropped his halberd. He felt somethings warm begin to flow down his neck. For a second the background noise vanished as he suddenly realized what he was hearing. After all he'd actually heard this particular sound on many occasions.  
_It's steel on bo..._

* * *

Two more of the villagers had been run down. The rest of the armed men were to caught up in the slaughter to notice anything going on behind them. They didn't even catch the sound of a corpse falling flat onto the ground. Nor (unfortunately for them) the sound of running feet sprinting towards their turned backs.  
The first notion they got of danger was the sudden sequel of the one man who'd cheaped out and brought a club. His squeal quickly transformed into a wet cough as the sword which had impaled him was yanked out. A friend to his right wheeled around and attempted to slash at the attacker who'd just jumped them. Timothy cut under his swing, and lashed into his arm into the process. Sending the severed limb flying away from it's former owner.

It took several more seconds before Cedric had caught onto what was going on. One of his own men had just shoved him out of the way while dashing towards the woods. He took no more than four steps before falling face first onto the ground. One of his hands was still twitching, the other was gone entirely.  
Cedric wheeled over to see several of his companions lying dead on the ground. A few other were rushing away with ugly looking gashes cleaved across their bodies. One of his better sword arms (_a rather dim lad named Henryk) _was doing his damnedest to fight off the butcher before him.  
Timothy casually tossed his sword from hand to hand as he stepped over the corpses of Cedric's dead men. Henryk kept his guard up, focusing on nothing else but his opponent. Almost instantly Timothy caught the sword between one of it's tosses and slashed it at Henryk. Instead of cutting through the man's neck Timothy was surprised to see that the blow had been parried. He straightened up then attacked more seriously.  
For a moment it seemed that they were evenly matched. Henryk caught another attack and even swung back. He went on the defensive again, and watched his opponent tense for another swing.  
He couldn't help but find that a little funny. His opponent was faster than a loosed quarrel. No one had been able to keep up with him.

_That did_ _not_ _change the fact that he was a shit swordsman._

The man had telegraphed every single move that he made. There was no subtlety in any of it. That managed to infuriate Henryk as well.

_The bastard doesn't need to be good...he's to fooking fast...fast'n arrogant to boot. Maybe that'll help...he's about to backswing at me. If I can block that then I'll be able to stab right into his smug face._

Indeed as Henryk had predicted Tim drew back his arm for a backswing. His body was completely exposed, but Henryk didn't take the bait. In matters of sword fighting he could be rather cautious and shrewd. He waited for their swords to meet, then he'd get to kill him.  
Tim's sword suddenly came down. In the split second before their blades met Henryk perceived something. He couldn't tell what exactly it was, but he imagined that it was a sense of dread.

* * *

Cedric had watched helplessly as the stranger broke Henryk's sword with the strength of his swing, before the blade was hacked deep into the poor fool's abdomen. A puff of pink mist stained the air as Henryk instantly went limp. Timothy attempted to pull his sword out, but found that that it had caught on...in Henryk.  
He jerked the corpse back and forth a bit in an attempt to free his sword. Timothy was so caught up in this that he barely noticed Cedric bring his sword down hard onto his exposed head.  
It would have been rather nice if he'd been able to kill him. Unfortunately this day had just been one big disappointment for Cedric.  
A loud metallic clang sounded when the metal of Cedric's sword met the alloy that made up what Timothy liked to call his skull.  
There was a moment of silence after that. Neither of the two men spoke a word. A thin line of blood dripped down Tim's surprised face before he finally reacted. He let go of his old sword's hilt, then punched Cedric savagely below the waist. The older man let out something like a hoarse groan, before falling onto his back.

* * *

Timothy kicked whoever the groaning man on the ground was a few more times before putting a hand on his own head. He winced a bit at the cut on his scalp then wiped the blood off on his wool shirt. He glanced down at the stain he'd just made, then to some of the bodies lying around him. Some of them had better fitting clothes..._they all also had shoes.  
_Timothy started stripping corpses (one of his oldest pastimes) for whatever he could get. Henryk (as it turned out) had a pair of perfect fitting boots for him. The man with the missing arm had a fitting undershirt along with a nice leather vest (which he had managed not to bleed on). Another man had a purse full of coins, the likes of which Tim had never seen before.  
Walking over to the dead man who'd tried to skewer him Tim turned him over and began to search the body. After a few seconds he pulled out something wrapped up in some kind of oilskin. He unwrapped it and to his surprise he found...

"A chicken sandwich?" he said aloud.

"How the fuck did you even..."

Timothy stopped talking when smelled the sandwich. Without much hesitation he took a bite out of it.

It was the greatest thing he'd ever tasted.

* * *

Several minutes after the attack had started the population of Oreton finally felt that it was safe to wander back home. They walked back to see the stranger from before gorging himself on a chunk of fried meat, only stopping to slurp down a battered flask or what smelled like sour wine.  
The small crowd looking at the bloody mess around them and then back to the stranger in the middle of it didn't know that to do. Timothy finished off the meat before looking over at the mud splattered villagers staring at him. He noticed their looks and after thinking it over decided that he should probably leave.

_They looked afraid...afraid of him._

Tim finished the last of the wine, tossed the bottle aside then pointed to Lucy.

"You there...Lucy right? Remind me, how to I get to the Inn at the Crossroads?"

Lucy paled noticeably when he pointed her out. She didn't speak for a few seconds, but once she noticed the rest of the village staring at her she quickly stammered out some vague directions for the stranger to follow. All the while trying not to make eye contact with him.  
Timothy gave them a nod and a thank you then turned around. He stopped briefly to pick up the sword that Cedric had hit him with. There was a small bend in the blade from where it hit his head, but otherwise it seemed to good to leave behind.  
Tim walked back over to Cedric and yanked the scabbard off of him. He groaned again, and Tim kicked again in return.

"Looks like this fucker is still alive." commented Tim.

"I suppose you can decide what to do with him."

Without any other words Tim slid the sword into it's old scabbard, then walked off out of Oreton.  
He had many, many questions about this whole situation, but he decided not to burden himself with them right now. He was already feeling pretty good.

_It had been nice to take out some pent up aggression on a few...raiders...probably. After getting beat up and cut open, it's kinda cathartic to do it to someone else._

* * *

In a cottage on the outskirts of Midcopse a sorceress was nursing one hell of a headache. There was a goose egg sized lump on the side of her head, and she was currently searching her memory for whatever spell would mend this particular injury. She didn't have the energy to be mad at the moment. She understood the scope of what had just escaped. Right now though...she didn't want to burden herself with the questions she would inevitably have to start asking.  
Her quiet moment was shattered by the sound of neighing coming from outside her home. Keira looked out one of her windows to see Geralt of Rivia, back sooner than usual.  
She breathed a little easier at the sight of him.

_Perhaps he could...assist with this new problem she'd encountered._


	5. Chapter 5

The road from Oreton traced a path across the marshy ground of Velen. Timothy didn't try sprinting his way to the inn. He opted to walk on the edge of the road nearest to the forest. Along the way he opened the pouch full of coins he'd looted from before. Most of the currency seemed to be dented and chipped chunks of bronze. Hardly anything could be recognized on them.

_Still better than bottle caps _thought Tim as he idly ran his fingers over the odd bits of currency.

_Don't know why...maybe it just feels better on the sk-_

"Fuck!" winced Tim as he jerked his hand away from the pouch.

He shook his free hand through the air like he had just seared it on a stove top. Looking down at it he saw that the tips of his fingers had turned cherry pie red.

It felt like something had just seared them.

Tim looked down into the bag but didn't see anything _funny _about it.

_Is that..._

Tim almost didn't want to think the word. He would feel stupid if he ever even began to consider it. Yet there it was, hanging in the back of his mind.

_Magic_

_No...it's...it's got to be radioactive...or poisoned...somehow. _

Tim flipped the bag over and dumped out the contents. A handful of the chipped coins spilled onto the ground, then a second later a larger coin, previously caught in the bag fell out as well. It fell onto the pile of bronze coins with an audible clink. Along with a light, but still resonating ring. Like the other coins it's edges were chipped, one side even seemed to have been deliberately cut off. It had a dark grey patina and the more distinct print of some monarch's head on it.

_Silver...huh._

Tim looked at it for a second before tapping it with the tip of his boot. Nothing happened, he went down to pick it up. The moment his finger tips touched it he jerked them back again in pain. Tim looked at the irritated skin on his fingers then back to the coin. He desperately wanted to use the Geiger counter on his Pip Boy to examine the strange hunk of metal, especially since now he was a little weary of carrying such a thing in his possession. All the same, it wasn't a good policy to leave perfectly good money lying in the dirt. Tim brushed all the other coins into the bag before grabbing a fresh leaf off of the ground. Using it as a sort of napkin Timothy picked it up. It seemed that as long as it didn't make direct contact with his skin, he wouldn't be harmed by it.  
Holding the coin a little closer to his face Tim studied it, trying to spot anything odd. In the end he didn't. There was just nothing remarkable about the coin. Nothing that he could tell at the moment anyway.  
Lacking pockets Tim wrapped the coin up in the leaf before dropping it back into the bag.

Tim continued walking after that, and once again his mind began to drift.

_A leaf, now that's something you don't see every day...at least back home it wasn't._

Tim stopped walking for a second, then immediately got back to it again. At that point he had officially come to terms with the idea that he wasn't anywhere near California, Nevada or anywhere else in the world-as-he-knew-it.  
That was just it. He had no idea what the "it" was. No clue where he was.

_Well...that isn't entirely true. _Thought Tim.

_I'm on my way to T'INN AT THE CROSSROADS m'lord._

"Forsooth my lord! Just travel down the road to ye olde tavern or whatever the fuck is here. Just be weary of the dragons and black knights and fuck'n indoor plumbing." said Tim aloud.

_Shoulda watched out for fry faced scientists who strap you to chairs, pull nails and try to mindfuck you with some weird ass tubes stuck in your nose._

Tim shuddered at the memory of that.

_I'd like to say that I'll find that bastard and kill him, but right now I'll just settle with making sure that he doesn't find me. Vilgefortz...I'll never be able to forget that name._

The sudden crack of a branch caused Tim to immediately grip his sword and turn around. His head jerked left and right while his eyes caught anything and everything that passed before them. In this case a foot sticking out from the corner of a tree around eighty feet away.

Tim focused on the foot while waiting for another noise. The foot stayed put and showed no sign of stepping back. Tim took his hand off of the sword and then cupped both of them to his mouth.

"You behind the tree, yeah you! Come out before I have to come over there and get ya!"

There was a few more seconds of silence after that. Then a skinny looking boy slowly slid into sight, both hands in the air and a terrified expression on his face. Tim recognized him on the spot.

"Hey...you're the kid from the wagon...back in Oreton?"

The "kid" opened his mouth, licked some very dry looking lips then finally managed to reply.

"I-I am sir." he said in a poor attempt at sounding nonplussed.

"You have a name?"

"Franz" replied Franz in a voice that Tim guessed had only just passed puberty.

"Alright Franz. What are you...like 14 years ol-"

"Sixteen" cut in Franz with a bit more strength and enthusiasm.

"Ah...Franz the sixteen year old cart driver who ferries soldiers into villages and stalks strangers through the woods."

Franz bit his lip at the sound of that.

"I'm not stalking ya...and t'wasnt my fault, I didn't ask to take them back home. T-they made me." Franz choked while shuddering a little.

Tim stared at shuddering Franz and decided to not bother tormenting the boy any longer.

"Alright, I was just messing with you. You don't need to cry..."

"I'm not goddamned crying!" shouted back Franz. Desperately blinking back tears forming up in the corner of his eyes.

"I'll take your word on that." mumbled Tim before he called back to Franz. "Come over here for fuck's sake. I'm not gonna kill you."

Franz didn't move at all. He just continued to stare Tim down with an uncertain gaze.

Tim stared back for a second before turning around. He continued walking as he had been before, but over his shoulder he called back to Franz.

"If you want to follow from back there, then go ahead. I'll even pretend I don't see you. How's about that?"

Franz stood still for a second. His face turned a little red, and in a flash he took off after Timothy.

"Wait a second! Hey, I'm coming!"

Tim slowed down a bit and waited for the flustered Franz to catch up with him.

When Franz caught up Tim was finally able to get a good look at him. The kid had a shock of blonde hair and a pair of blue eyes set on a bruised and bloodied face.

"What the hell happened to you? You get your ass beat before catching up with me?" queried Tim.

"Yeah, the whole village got a piece of me. Would've lynched me to if they could've."

"But they didn't."

"Nuh, managed to run off before that." said Franz with a bit of pride behind the words.

"You seem fairly fine despite all of that." commented Tim.

"I'm used to it at this point." said Franz.

"They tossed me to the boys over at Crow's Perch. I didn't volunteer for that job. Nonuvus did. But I was...available. And no one else wanted to volunteer their sons for work around those cutthroats. Funny though, the cutthroats come back to slaughter them and who do they immediately blame? Me, the kid they volunteered for the bloody job."

Tim and Franz started walking again after that. For a moment they didn't speak, then Tim opened the conversation back up.

"You always this...matter of fact?"

"I just kinda picked it up this past year."

"Because of the cutthroats?"

"Because of bloody everything."

"Fair."

"And what about you, with your fancy sword moves. Where'd you pick them up...Witcher School?" Franz asked matter of factly.

"What school?"

"Sorry, did I say it wrong? Witchmen...Witch...hunters?"

"I don't follow."

"Monster hunters! Whatever you are, do they teach ya that stuff in your guild?" Franz asked with a little impatience showing from his voice.

"Are there...monsters out here?" asked Tim half skeptic and half interested.

"As of late...yeah. The war's brought'em out." replied Franz.

"No shit?" quipped Tim.

The two walked on in silence for a bit longer before Franz popped another question.

"So...you're not one of them...not a Witcher?"

"I don't even know what that is." replied Tim.

"I'm a courier." continued Tim in a slightly amused voice.

Franz stared at his new companion with an expression of annoyance. "You said you were done playing games." he half growled.

"I am done, and I am serious." replied Tim.

"I am _officially _a courier for the Mojave express. Granted I haven't delivered any mail for the past nine and a half years, but no one really got around to firing me...so I'm still a courier."

Franz gave Timothy a look of confusion and annoyance. He just wanted a straight answer, and as usual he was getting the run around instead.

Timothy caught the look and decided to try and change tactics.

"I think that it's getting kinda late...I can make a fire or something. Would you happen to know if anything is edible around here?"

* * *

**Alright, I'll be the first one to admit it...I took a long time to update this...and this isn't even a long chapter. I really did think that I was going to have a good worth ethic. That I was going to update once per month and write no less than 4,000 words per update. Naturally that plan has gone to shit...but at least I can come clean about it. **  
**Anyway I am certainly going to try and pump out a decent chapter by July. It'll be longer than this and not cut off. I have a few ideas for how it's going to go down, but I'm open to suggestion. If anyone wants to PM me some story beats or character ideas then I'm all for it. Trust me I can use all the help I can get. **


End file.
